Post by Red Bull Icon on Aug 3, 2012 22:32:07 GMT -5
(The words UGWC.com extra scroll across the monitors of the viewing audience. Clearly shot following the latest episode of Synergy. Remi Monroe stands just on the backstage side of gorilla position. Sweaty from his successful title defense, to him anyway, and humored by the close of the show. The Cross-Hemisphere title slung over his shoulder proudly displaying a few new dents.)
Remi; “Oh dat some’a’dat funny stuffs righ’ dare I tell ya dat much fo’ fact. May’ee Remi done shou’ seen it comin’? May’ee not? I dohn know, you know? Still doh’ like a brick wall slammin’ ol’Remi in da face, 200 mile at a owah, plain as day be long, da fac’ true an’ pure stan’ immove-ah-ble. See now dis Swamplan’ Sup’a’man done at one time belee dat dis title bell really did hole’ some kinda meanin’ to ol’boy Fear. It actually had a leg’a’cy dat mista’ creepy crawly care’bout.
But dis right dare tonigh’ ‘ell a diff’er’an’ story a’togetha, don’it? See now Remi ‘e done did wond’a a’ time wha’ so ‘portan’ ‘bout dis title bell. Too’nigh’ juss’ answa dat fo’ me. See now it not da bell dat need savin’ from dis Dee’ Sou’ Demon’, oh no no no! See dat boy Fear lay it out. He a treach’a’russ man, no? Tur’ on ‘is frien’, ‘is belove’ frien’. Damn near ever’ time ‘e eva’ be anyt’ing more den a was’e. ‘Ell e’ a fine champ’ee’on when e’ fac’in da likes uv a JK or a Russo. Buh’ ta stan’ ou’ an’ really make dat impac’ ‘e gotta sacrifice a buddy. E’ gotta make a ‘ores bed an lay sleepless at nigh’ feelin’ dat guilt. Tryin’ ta make ev’ree one else feel los’ too wit ‘is ol’ cryptic schtick.
So he star’ buildin’ ‘is team, an’ star’s wit’ Moss Edwards. A man dat stop jus’ shor’ a pimpin’ ou’ ‘is ver’ own cousin ta get ov’a a man. A plan dat did backfire spectacular, le’ me tell ya. A man dat so faw ‘is crownin’ achievemen’ bein’ on da back a’ ‘is betta. A fact dat ‘e can’ jus’ come on ou’ an say dat not true speak more den any kinda explanin’ ‘e migh’ be able ta come up wit’. Fac’ be dis. Moss wanna be da good guy now, Moss wanna save da Cross-Em-y-fear belt now, Moss can’ say e’ won it as Rudo Uno cause dat make ‘is win a plot, scheme, a trick. Buh’ ‘e can’ say ‘e didn’ win da bell a’all, cause dat jus’ make ‘em a loos’a an’ a lie’ah! An’ instea’ uv admittin’ ‘e a lie’ah eith’a by deceivin’ all ta win da bell or a lie’ah ‘cause ‘e didn’ win no bell a’all ‘e turn ‘is back on dat Circle an’ t’row dem away.
An’ now. An’ now Fear lookin’ ta flesh ou’ ‘is team, an’ ‘e lookin’ no furth’ah den Jet Somer’. Da man dat ‘ell me get dis captain spot in da firs’ place. Da man dat convince Moss’ intern ta ‘elp, own’lee afta’ getting’ Moss ta set dat table fo’ da Star A ‘Morrow vote, set ‘is partna’ as secon’ place, use all o’ wha’ ‘e got ta get ta where I am today. Den not own’lee do ‘e tur’ dow’ a trip on da Suppa ‘Appy Fun Time ‘Arty Crew, but ‘e d’own even stan’ wit ‘is recruit o’ ‘is partna. Ree’lee doh I fo’ one shou’ see’ dis comin’. I know ‘is family did fo’show see da writin’ on dat wall all dem year ago. ‘E a man dat simply doh know wha’ ‘e wan’. ‘E loss’.
An’ dare you ‘ave it. Dat truth dat Remi shou’ seen comin’ at ‘em like a 200 mile a owah brick wall righ’ a’ ma face. See now I was ‘appy to use dis ‘ear bell ta get unda da skin a Fear. ‘Ake ‘im outta dat quiet little corn’ah dat ‘e so com-for-ta-bull in. Take wha’ he love an drag it t’rue da mud wit me. Buh now it oh so clear. See dis’ bell not some ‘igh up dare pinnacle o’ honor o’ tru. It aint no beacon in da nigh’. It no symbol o righ’ an wrong. It jus’ da only t’ing abou’ a few ugly men dat not a shameful disgrace. It a monumen’ buil’ up so ‘igh dat it block da sun an’ hide dat treachery from da turncoa’ behin’ some fake may’ up nobility. Stabbin’ ‘is broth’ah in arms in da har’ ta le’ ‘em res’? It whisp’ahs even mo’ lies in’ta da ear a da liar, tell ‘em ‘e a good guy surround by minions an’ stickin’ ‘is toe in my end a da pool. It da map, da waypoin’ dat ‘elp dat po’ lose boy forget jus’ wha’ it was dat ‘e started fightin’ fo. It da trail dat don’ nev’ah go ‘ome until one day it make loss ‘ome.
See now when dis ‘ear all started Remi was good ta jus’ run da bell down, an’ exploi’ a weakness. Buh now, Remi see wha’ ‘e got-to-do. Remi gone wipe dis bell from da worl’. ‘E gone ‘mind all dat can ‘ear dat da guy so worry ‘bout dis bells honor be da same guy not to lon’go dat had dat big gol’ bell, an’ got ‘imself disqualified cause ‘e didn’ah wanna Remi kickin’ ‘im in da face again.”
(Remi drops the belt to drag on the floor, and walks away as the scene fades to black.)
~*~*~
(We open in a steak house. From the look of the majority of clientele and the language spoken we get the distinct impression we’re in Japan. There’s a joyous group of young men in business suits in one corner. A man and his girlfriend at the bar greatly, physically, enjoying each other’s company. An overly polite waitress smiles and bows slightly before rushing off from a table. The table where Remi Monroe sits as calm as a post beating heart.
Upon closer inspection though we notice the waitress, her hair dripping with soke thrown back at her by Remi. MJ to his left. She passes the group of young men on her way to the back. All laughing but one. We follower her still to the bar where the age difference in the couple and the look of repeated motions on the face of the girl are all too clear. CeCe watches on in disgust as the man hand dips down below the counter. She looks away, wondering why they’re here, when the door opens. Our gaze falls as we follow her shifted attention. From the floor we see the sandaled feet of a tanned white man tread past the loafers, sturdy work shoes of the staff, and stains on the carpet until we’re standing at Remi’s table.)
?; “What the fuck do you want, Cross?”
Remi; “Oh, it’s… Remi now. You know MJ, yeah?”
(The stranger doesn’t acknowledge her.)
?; “What the fuck do you want, Remi?”
Remi; “Now is dat any kind of way to talk to an old friend?”
?; “One that’s threatening me now? Yeah. What’s this about?”
Remi; “It’s about… a debt. I did you a favor way back when, you owe me, and I’m… calling due.”
Instantly we’re in a shitty run down office. Posters of wrestlers, some with some without masks, hang on the walls. A short weasely man sits hunched over his table shaking his head. In Japanese he speaks.)
SAM; “No, you have a contract. I own you for six more months.”
?; “How much to buy my contract?”
SAM; “More than you can afford!”
We’re shown a duffle bag land on a cluttered desk. SAM opens the parcel to find nothing but crisp American hundred dollar bills.
SAM; “What’s in America worth so much that you’d part with this much?
?; “Owe you? I’ve paid back every cent.”
Remi; “Cent? Dollar? Ducket? The hell does Remi Monroe need to concern himself with money for? No no no, I gave you a chance. I let you follow your dream. Chase your… destiny. And now you’re going to do the same for me.”
?; “Really, you..”
Remi; “Oh, before I forget. Where’s that woman you’re rumored to be travelling with? I only ask out of my very own sense of… self-preservation. Do you know she’s sought for questions related to, to a… murder? Disappeared, ‘bout the same time you did. And that cousin of Moss’, ah, what’s her name? Ah, doesn’t matter none. I’m sure she wouldn’t aid and abed… harbor a first degree murderer.”
(MJ looks away from the man’s gaze.)
?; “What do you want?”
Remi; “There we go! The UGWC got this big show coming up. Outlast! Six four man teams square off two at a time in an elimination match. The surviving members of the winning team… moves on. The end is a big old cluster of a match the likes that you made a career winning, but the champion is added to the mix. Last man standing is the new… champion. I want you on my team. Here’s your plane ticket. It’s Monday.”
?; “Two days from now?”
Remi; “That’s right. Be there or be square!”
?; “I’m not in ring shape. What about Nate? He’s always looking for a payday. Eldrich, he’d love a shot at stateside.”
Remi; “No. No. Neither of them got the same history with Moss. You don’t gotta win. Just keep him and Jet off of me.”
?; “Jet too? Who’s the champ?”
Remi; “Ezekiel Pax.”
?; “The fuck? Who else is on your team?”
Remi; “Well, me, an’ you, an’ someone I doubt you ever heard of, and I think I’m a let MJ fill that… last spot.”
(MJ looks shocked. Her mind scrambles.)
MJ; “Uh, well we’re in Japan I can get Tobias Erndart.”
?; “No.”
MJ; “Well the only other guy I know is Tyvola, and I really don’t think that’s a good idea Remi.”
?; “Who?”
Remi; “No. No. Listen again. Carefully this time. I’m a let MJ fill that… last spot.”
MJ; “No!”
Remi; “Yes.”
?; “Well this just keeps getting better.”
~*~*~
(A quartet of high hells traverse the immaculate hotel of Remi’s guest slave for Outlast. A plastic bag held by one of the ladies the only noise. We pan up, slowly, over the long slender perfect legs to the short skirt, a blouse fitted to the frame of a goddess fit, toned, and purely feminine, ample but just breasts, blond hair peeking out from a red wig. The other women a notch or two below, but more than enough for any man. Uh, most men.
Penthouse suite, a knock at the door, and as the door opens we get our first glimpse of one of the ladies’ face. Grace Harding smiles as she holds out the bag for investigation. The clear unmistakable image of a four pack of ice cold nectar of the gods Red Bull leads her to gloat.)
Grace; “I know. I’m the best!”
(Grace takes the unnamed women by the hand and leads her into the room.)
?; “Uh…”
Grace; “Oh I know, but someone saw you at the airport. The way the rumor mill spreads in this industry. You’ve got a reputation to uphold, meet Ashley, and momma needs her toes done in the worse way.”
Ashley; “Pleasure to me you. I’m a really, REALLY, big fan.”
(Grace sits on the couch, making herself at home, Ashley kneels in front of her, opens the pack of energy drinks, produces a nail file from the contents, and starts on Ms. Hardings’ left foot.)
?; “You are the best.”
Grace; “So, where’s Maddy? How’d she take it?”
?; “Not well.”
~End
Remi; “Oh dat some’a’dat funny stuffs righ’ dare I tell ya dat much fo’ fact. May’ee Remi done shou’ seen it comin’? May’ee not? I dohn know, you know? Still doh’ like a brick wall slammin’ ol’Remi in da face, 200 mile at a owah, plain as day be long, da fac’ true an’ pure stan’ immove-ah-ble. See now dis Swamplan’ Sup’a’man done at one time belee dat dis title bell really did hole’ some kinda meanin’ to ol’boy Fear. It actually had a leg’a’cy dat mista’ creepy crawly care’bout.
But dis right dare tonigh’ ‘ell a diff’er’an’ story a’togetha, don’it? See now Remi ‘e done did wond’a a’ time wha’ so ‘portan’ ‘bout dis title bell. Too’nigh’ juss’ answa dat fo’ me. See now it not da bell dat need savin’ from dis Dee’ Sou’ Demon’, oh no no no! See dat boy Fear lay it out. He a treach’a’russ man, no? Tur’ on ‘is frien’, ‘is belove’ frien’. Damn near ever’ time ‘e eva’ be anyt’ing more den a was’e. ‘Ell e’ a fine champ’ee’on when e’ fac’in da likes uv a JK or a Russo. Buh’ ta stan’ ou’ an’ really make dat impac’ ‘e gotta sacrifice a buddy. E’ gotta make a ‘ores bed an lay sleepless at nigh’ feelin’ dat guilt. Tryin’ ta make ev’ree one else feel los’ too wit ‘is ol’ cryptic schtick.
So he star’ buildin’ ‘is team, an’ star’s wit’ Moss Edwards. A man dat stop jus’ shor’ a pimpin’ ou’ ‘is ver’ own cousin ta get ov’a a man. A plan dat did backfire spectacular, le’ me tell ya. A man dat so faw ‘is crownin’ achievemen’ bein’ on da back a’ ‘is betta. A fact dat ‘e can’ jus’ come on ou’ an say dat not true speak more den any kinda explanin’ ‘e migh’ be able ta come up wit’. Fac’ be dis. Moss wanna be da good guy now, Moss wanna save da Cross-Em-y-fear belt now, Moss can’ say e’ won it as Rudo Uno cause dat make ‘is win a plot, scheme, a trick. Buh’ ‘e can’ say ‘e didn’ win da bell a’all, cause dat jus’ make ‘em a loos’a an’ a lie’ah! An’ instea’ uv admittin’ ‘e a lie’ah eith’a by deceivin’ all ta win da bell or a lie’ah ‘cause ‘e didn’ win no bell a’all ‘e turn ‘is back on dat Circle an’ t’row dem away.
An’ now. An’ now Fear lookin’ ta flesh ou’ ‘is team, an’ ‘e lookin’ no furth’ah den Jet Somer’. Da man dat ‘ell me get dis captain spot in da firs’ place. Da man dat convince Moss’ intern ta ‘elp, own’lee afta’ getting’ Moss ta set dat table fo’ da Star A ‘Morrow vote, set ‘is partna’ as secon’ place, use all o’ wha’ ‘e got ta get ta where I am today. Den not own’lee do ‘e tur’ dow’ a trip on da Suppa ‘Appy Fun Time ‘Arty Crew, but ‘e d’own even stan’ wit ‘is recruit o’ ‘is partna. Ree’lee doh I fo’ one shou’ see’ dis comin’. I know ‘is family did fo’show see da writin’ on dat wall all dem year ago. ‘E a man dat simply doh know wha’ ‘e wan’. ‘E loss’.
An’ dare you ‘ave it. Dat truth dat Remi shou’ seen comin’ at ‘em like a 200 mile a owah brick wall righ’ a’ ma face. See now I was ‘appy to use dis ‘ear bell ta get unda da skin a Fear. ‘Ake ‘im outta dat quiet little corn’ah dat ‘e so com-for-ta-bull in. Take wha’ he love an drag it t’rue da mud wit me. Buh now it oh so clear. See dis’ bell not some ‘igh up dare pinnacle o’ honor o’ tru. It aint no beacon in da nigh’. It no symbol o righ’ an wrong. It jus’ da only t’ing abou’ a few ugly men dat not a shameful disgrace. It a monumen’ buil’ up so ‘igh dat it block da sun an’ hide dat treachery from da turncoa’ behin’ some fake may’ up nobility. Stabbin’ ‘is broth’ah in arms in da har’ ta le’ ‘em res’? It whisp’ahs even mo’ lies in’ta da ear a da liar, tell ‘em ‘e a good guy surround by minions an’ stickin’ ‘is toe in my end a da pool. It da map, da waypoin’ dat ‘elp dat po’ lose boy forget jus’ wha’ it was dat ‘e started fightin’ fo. It da trail dat don’ nev’ah go ‘ome until one day it make loss ‘ome.
See now when dis ‘ear all started Remi was good ta jus’ run da bell down, an’ exploi’ a weakness. Buh now, Remi see wha’ ‘e got-to-do. Remi gone wipe dis bell from da worl’. ‘E gone ‘mind all dat can ‘ear dat da guy so worry ‘bout dis bells honor be da same guy not to lon’go dat had dat big gol’ bell, an’ got ‘imself disqualified cause ‘e didn’ah wanna Remi kickin’ ‘im in da face again.”
(Remi drops the belt to drag on the floor, and walks away as the scene fades to black.)
~*~*~
(We open in a steak house. From the look of the majority of clientele and the language spoken we get the distinct impression we’re in Japan. There’s a joyous group of young men in business suits in one corner. A man and his girlfriend at the bar greatly, physically, enjoying each other’s company. An overly polite waitress smiles and bows slightly before rushing off from a table. The table where Remi Monroe sits as calm as a post beating heart.
Upon closer inspection though we notice the waitress, her hair dripping with soke thrown back at her by Remi. MJ to his left. She passes the group of young men on her way to the back. All laughing but one. We follower her still to the bar where the age difference in the couple and the look of repeated motions on the face of the girl are all too clear. CeCe watches on in disgust as the man hand dips down below the counter. She looks away, wondering why they’re here, when the door opens. Our gaze falls as we follow her shifted attention. From the floor we see the sandaled feet of a tanned white man tread past the loafers, sturdy work shoes of the staff, and stains on the carpet until we’re standing at Remi’s table.)
?; “What the fuck do you want, Cross?”
Remi; “Oh, it’s… Remi now. You know MJ, yeah?”
(The stranger doesn’t acknowledge her.)
?; “What the fuck do you want, Remi?”
Remi; “Now is dat any kind of way to talk to an old friend?”
?; “One that’s threatening me now? Yeah. What’s this about?”
Remi; “It’s about… a debt. I did you a favor way back when, you owe me, and I’m… calling due.”
Instantly we’re in a shitty run down office. Posters of wrestlers, some with some without masks, hang on the walls. A short weasely man sits hunched over his table shaking his head. In Japanese he speaks.)
SAM; “No, you have a contract. I own you for six more months.”
?; “How much to buy my contract?”
SAM; “More than you can afford!”
We’re shown a duffle bag land on a cluttered desk. SAM opens the parcel to find nothing but crisp American hundred dollar bills.
SAM; “What’s in America worth so much that you’d part with this much?
?; “Owe you? I’ve paid back every cent.”
Remi; “Cent? Dollar? Ducket? The hell does Remi Monroe need to concern himself with money for? No no no, I gave you a chance. I let you follow your dream. Chase your… destiny. And now you’re going to do the same for me.”
?; “Really, you..”
Remi; “Oh, before I forget. Where’s that woman you’re rumored to be travelling with? I only ask out of my very own sense of… self-preservation. Do you know she’s sought for questions related to, to a… murder? Disappeared, ‘bout the same time you did. And that cousin of Moss’, ah, what’s her name? Ah, doesn’t matter none. I’m sure she wouldn’t aid and abed… harbor a first degree murderer.”
(MJ looks away from the man’s gaze.)
?; “What do you want?”
Remi; “There we go! The UGWC got this big show coming up. Outlast! Six four man teams square off two at a time in an elimination match. The surviving members of the winning team… moves on. The end is a big old cluster of a match the likes that you made a career winning, but the champion is added to the mix. Last man standing is the new… champion. I want you on my team. Here’s your plane ticket. It’s Monday.”
?; “Two days from now?”
Remi; “That’s right. Be there or be square!”
?; “I’m not in ring shape. What about Nate? He’s always looking for a payday. Eldrich, he’d love a shot at stateside.”
Remi; “No. No. Neither of them got the same history with Moss. You don’t gotta win. Just keep him and Jet off of me.”
?; “Jet too? Who’s the champ?”
Remi; “Ezekiel Pax.”
?; “The fuck? Who else is on your team?”
Remi; “Well, me, an’ you, an’ someone I doubt you ever heard of, and I think I’m a let MJ fill that… last spot.”
(MJ looks shocked. Her mind scrambles.)
MJ; “Uh, well we’re in Japan I can get Tobias Erndart.”
?; “No.”
MJ; “Well the only other guy I know is Tyvola, and I really don’t think that’s a good idea Remi.”
?; “Who?”
Remi; “No. No. Listen again. Carefully this time. I’m a let MJ fill that… last spot.”
MJ; “No!”
Remi; “Yes.”
?; “Well this just keeps getting better.”
~*~*~
(A quartet of high hells traverse the immaculate hotel of Remi’s guest slave for Outlast. A plastic bag held by one of the ladies the only noise. We pan up, slowly, over the long slender perfect legs to the short skirt, a blouse fitted to the frame of a goddess fit, toned, and purely feminine, ample but just breasts, blond hair peeking out from a red wig. The other women a notch or two below, but more than enough for any man. Uh, most men.
Penthouse suite, a knock at the door, and as the door opens we get our first glimpse of one of the ladies’ face. Grace Harding smiles as she holds out the bag for investigation. The clear unmistakable image of a four pack of ice cold nectar of the gods Red Bull leads her to gloat.)
Grace; “I know. I’m the best!”
(Grace takes the unnamed women by the hand and leads her into the room.)
?; “Uh…”
Grace; “Oh I know, but someone saw you at the airport. The way the rumor mill spreads in this industry. You’ve got a reputation to uphold, meet Ashley, and momma needs her toes done in the worse way.”
Ashley; “Pleasure to me you. I’m a really, REALLY, big fan.”
(Grace sits on the couch, making herself at home, Ashley kneels in front of her, opens the pack of energy drinks, produces a nail file from the contents, and starts on Ms. Hardings’ left foot.)
?; “You are the best.”
Grace; “So, where’s Maddy? How’d she take it?”
?; “Not well.”
~End